


Predetermined

by missmishka



Category: Man of Steel (2013)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Exploration, F/M, I imagine Krypton to be intolerant of same sex relationships, I should not still be up and writing these two at 2 am, M/M, Unbeta'ed, building my own Kyrptonian sociology here, definitely shouldn't be making up tags this late, little to no actual canon drawn from any of the comics, no explicit references, premovie, still poking around in Zod's psyche to dissect his motives in the movie, the underage thing really isn't a thing, think of it as a fastforward thru the origins of their relationship, this OTP is consuming my brain, this has a angst tint to it, very mild on the slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-15 16:26:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/851608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmishka/pseuds/missmishka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>"Social Divides: Kryptonian hubris led to elitism, xenophobia and isolationism.  These attitudes permeated society and led to individuals having little or no contact, physical or emotional."</em><br/>~ DC Comics Encyclopedia, Updated and Revised Edition 2008</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: The usual warnings, I claim no ownership of these characters, they are simply borrowed with love and adoration from the original creators to have their stories, thoughts or circumstances embellished on a little more than the original format had done. Not for any profit.

Touch is a rarity; seldom wanted, encouraged or experienced.  One might witness the occasional amongst the house of Van, but even they, bred as they were family and the sentiment of home, were sparse with what was known as the affection of old.

The stories are taught to them during their enlightenment cycles of youth; tales of physical joining for pleasure with hands, lips and bodies mingling.  

The thought is abhorrent to Zod; to most of his kind.  One lays with their lifemate out of duty to complete the lawful ritual of pairing and to initiate the commingling of bloodlines to add to the codex to keep the genetics ever changing with their populous.  Zod also disagrees with the Concil's insistence of pairing outside the households; weakening the strong bloodlines such as his own with the inferior homes such as Ko who try to spread peace and Zu who dare embrace the idea of surrender.  These people, though, are all his own to protect and guide as a warrior of Krypton so he obeys the duty bred into him to see that no harm comes to any of them.

In the strength cycle of his youth, though, he first encounters one that inadvertently then deliberately challenges all of this.

Jor is a son of El; a thinker, scientist and creator from the house of hope, creation and exploration.  Normally Zod would have thought the male a lesser, but despite a scrawny build there was nothing weak or inferior about Jor-El.  

By the same unknown reasoning by which pairbonds are chosen, Zod is assigned quarters with Jor.  They are to train, practice, eat, sleep and live together for the duration of this cycle which will be as short or long as their masters decree.  Zod knows within moments of meeting this person that he wants this period of his development to last, unlike his rush to get through the adaptation and enlightenment cycles prior to this.

Their purposes are different as has been their rearing in their respective houses, but somehow Zod and Jor-El become what can only be defined as friends.  They spend their time together willingly; building their strength, muscles and fighting styles together under the assessing eyes of their instructors then slipping from scrutiny to build their friendship.

Jor-El is a tinkerer, his mind is sharp and ever active, hands quick to put shape to some invention he thinks of use.  He makes little things to help them in their training, to help build muscle and test agility.  He talks as he works in the privacy of their room, a constant flow of questions, observations and statements that border on lecturing.  Zod supposes the latter is to be expected as Jor's father in a master of study for the scientists and engineers in the indoctrination cycle; the next and final  cycle of youth that completes the preparation of each citizen for their designated life purpose.  Zod is a warrior bred and he will see himself ranked amongst the elite generals of their defense.  Jor-El has no grand ambition, he wants only the time, space and freedom to return their people to the void so that they might explore and develop foreign worlds once more.

Zod can never bring himself to argue that their people had long learned that lesson and would make no more journeys beyond the shelter of their own planet; not that he ever had much opportunity to voice such observations with Jor's talk. He gives responses, brief and concise, when prompted and tests Jor-El's creations when asked, but mostly he lets the sound of his roommate's voice wash over him in pleasant diversion from usual thoughts of future.

The noise is unfamiliar, but oddly soothing.

As is Jor-El's propensity to touch.  He is a tactile being; learning and studying through touch.  

Their physical contact is expected, encouraged and ultimately required in training, but what is done in the sanctum of their quarters is for enjoyment.  Sparring, at first, continuation of their lessons on a lighter, friendlier scale, but it somehow leads to more.  Hands placed upon shoulder, arm or back in gestures of camaraderie soon become fingers tracing curiously over warm flesh stretching across developing muscles as their bodies shape and grow to manhood.  

Then touch becomes taste, lips and tongues exploring.  

Their coverings soon have little use inside the privacy of their quarters and they each take to shedding their clothes after closing themselves in for the night.  

Jor-El's bed becomes something used only for organizing his inventions unless the unsullied linens are needed for them to have a place to sleep after the kissing and touching and grinding brought them both to messy climax upon Zod's bed.  

In this time, Zod learns the meaning of pleasure and the reality of how it can be transferred from one person to another through these base acts.  The reality is not as repulsive as he had thought it would be, but, then, he is experiencing it with Jor-El, not a lifemate.  

Two males do not pairbond on Krypton; nor do two females.  The Council had eliminated such relations centuries ago, but the urge had clearly not been remove from their genetics.  The want to bond with Jor-El is dangerously strong.

Their time in this cycle is too limited and they each know their paths will part again for the indoctrination as Zod is bound for the military compounds outside Kandor while Jor-El will remain in the city's ever changing center with the scientists and engineer that continue to reinvent their world.

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like if we could choose our own futures?" Jor asks him once in the dark of night.

His lips are a whisper of breath and tickle of light friction on the back of Zod's neck as he molds his broadening frame to Zod's back; a familiar arm slipping around his waist while their legs tangle together.

Zod's instinctive response is a non-committal grunt, but a scrape of teeth over his shoulder warns that an actual answer is expected so that Jor-El can _learn_.

"It is not for me to wonder," he replies, gruff and simple, leaving unsaid that ideals and 'wonderings' are best left to those of Jor-El's breeding.

"Semantics," the teeth sink in to sinew, drawing a hiss from Zod that turns to a sigh when a warm hand strokes in a calming motion over his stomach and a tongue moves to sooth the brief sting of the bite.  "Do you ever _want_ to choose your own future?"

"I would always choose to defend our people."  _And I would share that future with you._

A breath gusts against his nape and Jor's body goes momentarily slack, forcing Zod to realize that his partner had been holding his breath in wait for his answer.  The brief press of a kiss to his shoulder followed by the gentle withdraw of limbs binding them together tells Zod that his answer had been the wrong one.

He follows as Jor turns away from him, shifting to his other side so that he can wrap his body around Jor's.  Jor-El could and would have to leave their bed if he truly wanted separation and distance between them.  He only tenses for a moment, though, before pressing back against Zod's chest.

"Do you ever want to choose your own future?"

"I think I would always want to explore and invent," Jor-El sighs and moves to grasp Zod's hand and mesh their fingers together.  "I would share that future with you, though."

Zod bites the inside of his cheek to keep from gripping Jor's hand with breaking force as his lover has the courage to speak what Zod seldom dared think.

"Such things are not allowed by the Council," is the response he forces out when he can unclench his jaw to speak.

"I know," Jor gives his hand one last squeeze before releasing it and moving to tuck both of his own hands beneath his pillow, "and we cannot defy the Council."

Their time together is limited to days after that and then they part with nothing more than brittle smiles and lingering stares under the watchful eyes of their peers.

They move with speed and ease through indoctrination; honing their skills with a determination that earns them honors in their fields, but it is still a process of five years to complete compared to the average of six for the cycle.  

It is not chance that brings them together for the implementation stage of their lives as they begin to utilize the training of their youth.  Careful words voiced into powerful ears placed Zod as guardian of Jor's post at the southern base of core mining.  

In the day hours Zod patrols while Jor gathers samples and correlate data; night brings them together once more with Zod watching in fond indulgence as Jor vents his creative energy on building armor and weaponry to protect Zod.  

Once his mind is sated, Jor turns to venting his physical energy and their bodies often grapple in a replay of youth past before they join together in ways their younger selves had not dared.  Few visit or care for this facility, leaving it virtually their own with Zod's presence merely a standard requirement that all things related to the core be guarded against the chance or sabotage or thievery.

Their idyll lasts for three years, only half the time that they had allowed themselves to be together during their strength cycle.

Then it all ends as Jor-El's lifemate is announced.

Zod says nothing as the scientist prepares to return to Kandor for his pairbonding ceremonies.

"We cannot defy the Council," Jor echoes his own words with the same regret tinged tone that he had used years before, but there seems to be a question this time.

There is a pause in his motions as he packs the last of his personal possessions and prepares to fasten the last case closed.

_With my strength and your inventions and our combined will we can defy anything; set our own course into the void that has so fascinated you until we find a place where we can be us._

"No," is what he says, though, in response to the implied question, "we cannot."

"I would have you stand witness for my bonding," Jor's hands resume motion and snap the case closed to just lay there upon _their_ bed with the two other cases that he had filled.

The Council has chosen for Jor-El a daughter from the house of Van and Zod loathes the idea of how naturally they would fall together.  He hates knowing that Jor would be caressing his mate and likely be caressed often in return by one from a lineage of home, family and hearth.  She is beneath them both in Zod's opinion, but what burns the most is the reality that she will soon be literally beneath Jor-El and only Jor-El.  Zod will not be able to know that place again now because he has already broken more rules than he ever would have thought himself capable of by ever having lain with another male but he cannot bring himself to openly defy _everything_ just to know the pleasure of Jor in his life and bed for the span of their lives.

"I would have it no other way, my friend," he finally replies to the invitation with some of his teeth likely breaking under the pressure of his clenched jaw.

"'My friend,'" Jor muses, tugging two of his cases from the bed to carry out to the waiting Jor-El hovercar waiting outside.  "We will at least have that, I suppose."

"Always," Zod states, positioning himself to bar the exit from their private chamber as he reaches out to place a hand on Jor's shoulder.

Their eyes meet for a glance that they will never likely exchange again before Jor's husky frame seems to deflate on an exhalation as his eyes drift shut and he leans forward to press his forehead against Zod's shoulder.

"Always."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I kind of couldn't let this go and wanted to explore Jor-El's side of it, picking up where Zod leave off.

Jor-El stares at his formal attire laid out on his bed and waiting to be donned. 

In addition to his normal skinsuit, he has the formal blue robes that signify the Science guild and a breastplate with the golden glyph for the house of El.  The golden belt will draw the robes together in some semblance of fashionable order.  A regal red cape will attach to his shoulders to flow behind him with every step he takes.

He has worn lesser versions of this attire for the previous accomplishments of his life.  The white robes of his youth had traded for the blue of his guild upon completing indoctrination. 

This will be the first time he has worn the gold, though, for that is a prized adornment to their people and given only for this last rite of maturity; mating.

He knows of Lara Lor-Van, his assigned lifemate.

The females of Krypton undergo the same cycles as the males and he has vague memories of her from random moments during their adaptation and enlightenment cycles.  She was part of the Educational guild and their Indoctrination cycles would have taken place in similar places, but he knows of no encounters with her since enlightenment.

There are few encounters that he cares to remember after the strength cycle paired him with Dru-Zod of the Military guild.

Jor-El wonders how Dru will react to seeing him in his formal attire, just as he wonders how he will react to seeing Dru in his military regalia. 

He had not had access to his lover’s induction to the guild upon completing the Indoctrination cycle, so he has yet to see Zod in the stark garb that identifies soldiers on Krypton.  The attire that Zod had worn as his guard for the past three years at the southern mining base had been casual, some light armor over his standard skinsuit.  Today, as a guest and official witness at this ceremony, Dru would be wearing the formal metallic robes of his guild with the platinum crest of the Zod house and a lengthy black robe. In past, Jor has imagined the uniform and today he would actually see it.

He tries not to show weakness by wishing that their people had truly _paired_ him with Dru those years ago, but such was not the way of their people. 

Males did not mate together.

As a scientist, Jor-El has always known the Council’s stance to be illogical.

Their people have not truly _mated_ in centuries.  Bloodlines are mixed in labs; offspring created from reproductive material harvested from the citizenry and birthed by robots.  The thinking that those children had to be raised by one male and one female parental unit is archaic.  Children of Krypton have little actual time with their families; it is the guild’s that raise them; the masters that guide them through their life cycles in youth.  The tradition that they cling to has no place in the future Jor-El wishes for his people.

He runs his fingers over the silky blue robes and wishes that he were dressing this day for official union with Dru-Zod instead of taking the steps that will forever reduce them from lovers to _friends._

He knows in his heart and mind that friendship is no small thing to have from someone like Dru and he prizes it more than the gold before him; but it still pales in comparison to what they have had these past years. 

Preparations for this union have taken weeks; weeks that he has had no contact with Dru at all.

Over a month has passed since he laid hand or mouth upon the other man.  Over a month since his body has yielded to the press and penetration of Zod’s.  Over a month since the future leader of Krypton’s armies has knelt happily before Jor-El and sucked him into his mouth or bent over to take Jor-El inside his body. 

Just over a month and Jor-El aches with an emptiness that he will never have filled again because they cannot defy the Council.

_"Do you ever want to choose your own future?"_

All it would have ever taken for their course to be rerouted was for Dru to have said yes whenever Jor asked that question.  All it would take now for Jor to cast aside these lavish ornaments is for Dru-Zod to simply indicate a want to break tradition.

Males had mated with males in the distant pasts of Krypton; women had paired with women. 

In the time of the Exploration guild, when their people ventured out into the galaxies, Kryptonians had even mated with those they found on distant worlds.  Such debauchery, though, had led to the downfall of the guild and been reason for the Council’s cessation of those works.  The blood of Krypton had been tainted, Elders of long ago had decreed, and such pollution of their people had been outlawed.  They closed their gates to the outer worlds, their minds to the endless possibilities that existed for the betterment of their people, then they closed their hearts to the memories of want and love.

Jor-El has always honored they ways, despite hating and disagreeing with many of them.  It is Dru-Zod who had taught him that, years ago.

_“You’ll do no good imprisoned for treason, Jor-El.  You must play your part and get inside the machine if you ever hope to do something to alter its inner workings.”_

Unfortunately, so many years of playing the part leaves one wondering what their actual role and motivation are. 

If he marries Lara today and couples with her tonight, he feels that he will be betraying Dru-Zod in a manner that cannot be undone.  If he speaks vows before his family, Jor-El knows that he will honor those vows because it is what he did.  While he has learned to dress insults in brighter words to avoid creating enemies among the Council, Jor-El never speaks falsehoods or makes promises lightly. 

The house of Van is expecting a beneficial union with the house of El and Lara Lor-Van is an unwitting party in all of this.  She has no way of knowing that Jor’s head and heart are with another, but if he stands with her and carries out this ceremony then she will have every reason to expect his head and heart to eventually go to her. 

He sighs heavily and moves to settle upon the bed beside his finery.

“Sir, a visitor awaits entrance to your chamber.”

He looks sharply to a dark corner of the room as Kelex makes his announcement.  The robot floats further into the room with a three-dimensional image of his visitor showing on the display screen of Kelex’s thorax.

_Dru._

“Granted, Kelex,” Jor orders with a calm not matched by his quick leap from the bed to straighten his hair and insure that his skinsuit wasn’t clinging anyway embarrassing.

The door glides open at Kelex’s command and Dru stands on the threshold, spine ramrod straight, shoulders squared and jaw thrust stubbornly forward.

“Leave us,” Jor orders his robot, watching the machine to keep his eyes from stripping Zod with any to witness such illicit behavior.

“You will require assistance to dress, sir,” Kelex reminds in his carefully modulated tones.  “Shall I have your father-“

“I can assist Jor-El with such tasks while we speak,” Zod interrupts as he steps into the room then turns pointedly to the side for the robot to be able to pass by him on the way out of the chamber.

“Indeed,” Jor nods his agreement and virtually shoos the faithful creation from his room.

With the touch of a button on the control panel just inside the door, Dru closes the entrance the moment that Kelex’s trailing tentacles are clear.  Left alone in the chamber, it seems unnaturally quiet in the moments after the whisper of sound the barrier made as it sealed them in.

“You look,” _incredible_ , “well,” Jor says to break the silence before it can become painful to him.

On most, the uniforms of the Military guild appear drab or stark; they dissolve the wearer into the surroundings to be easily overlooked by friend and foe.  It was likely the intent when the outfits were selected so that the soldiers could move with stealth and not so that one would admire how attractive the soldier looked in their official garb.

The Dru-Zod standing before him, though, in his metallic robes and dark hues that seem to match his stormy expression; the sight of him stops Jor-El’s thought processes for a moment. 

Dru brown hair is trimmed closely to the skull to hide any evidence of how it curls when he allows it to grow longer.  His mouth is framed by a neatly groomed beard and moustache.  From the platinum clasps on his broad shoulders flows an inky black cape that sweeps over the floor like a living shadow.  The symbol of the Zod house gleams from the breastplate covering his chest; a recent and thorough polishing evident in the sheen.  His robes have strands of silvers and black woven through the make the fabric surprisingly vibrant when he moved; appears at turns light and dark like a mood sensor.  His legs are tightly encased in a form-fitting black skinsuit over which he wears heavy boots with leather guards over his shins.  He has similar guards with platinum embellishments on his forearms, covering the overlap between his black gloves and the sleeves of his skinsuit.

For many, he is likely as intimidating and daunting as he wishes to be to his peers and underlings.  For Jor, he is impressive and strikingly handsome.

His eyes seem to have a glint of steel to them, perhaps reflected from his attire.  Jor-El has always loved Dru’s eyes because no matter how hard he tried he could never fully mask the true feelings that shone in his gaze.  Few have had chance to learn how to read that gaze as well as Jor-El is able to and a part of him hopes that no other ever has the same opportunity.

It is an exceedingly selfish thought, he knows, when he himself is on the verge of committing to another, but he is not above jealousy. 

“I would have thought you further along in preparations,” Dru says as he moves toward the bed.

“I find I’ve been rather distracted from task,” he replies with a wry twist to his lips.

“You must be excited to begin this new stage of your life,” Dru murmurs, fingers absently trailing over the red cape.

“My excitement would be greater if I had choice of partner that I wed this day.”

Black gloved fingers curl and fist around the red material as Jor’s gently spoken words seem to echo in the chamber.  Dru’s head drops forward and for a moment he stares at the cape in his hand before drawing a deep breath to release as his fingers unfurl.  He focuses for another moment on attempting to smooth out the creases in the fabric.

“The Council would have your head for such a notion,” Dru attempts to joke, still seeming to look upon everything in the room aside from Jor-El.

“They’d never come to agreement on such an action,” Jor scoffs.  “At best, they’d banish me to the nomadic plains and hope my voice never to reach the ear of another.  At worst, imprisonment while they debated endlessly the best punishment for heresy.”

“At worst, they order me to be your executioner,” Zod visibly grinds his teeth at the thought.

“At best, you would be sentenced by my side because it is you that I would have for partner, Dru,” Jor moves to put his hand on Zod’s shoulder and force him to meet his gaze.  “You must know this.”

“What happened to ‘we mustn’t defy the Council?’”

“I have only ever said that because _you_ will not defy them.  The things that I have felt in our time together are worth fighting our anachronistic leaders for.  We have long spoken of the need to change for the future of our people; Dru-Zod, let _us_ be that change.”

“You would incite any to madness when you speak with such passion,” Dru whispers with an undefinable twist to his lips.  “All would be lost to us both for such action.  The shame we would bring upon our houses and guilds is immeasurable.”

“Is that all that matters to you?  The shame?” Jor’s hand drops away from Zod’s arm.

“The system is what it is, Jor-El.  If we’re outcast by the Council how can your inventions help Krypton as you always wanted them to?  How do I protect and serve our people if they shun _us_?”

“We can make different futures for ourselves,” Jor argues.

“Can we?” Zod counters, finally moving to touch Jor.  The glove is smooth; warm and worn by Dru’s hands and Jor turns his face into the fingers touching it.  “Look inside yourself, Jor-El, do this for me.  Look within you and tell me what you see yourself doing tomorrow and the next day to the next for the rest of your life.”

Jor’s eyes drift closed at the instruction and Dru’s hand falls away, but he knows that it will be back after the glove has been removed.  They’ve experimented with Dru’s telepathy and telekinesis in the past.  Jor drifts into the thoughts brought forth by Dru’s prompts and he sees them in this chamber, awaking together after an exhaustive night of catching up for their time apart.

The Zod of his fantasy rolls over on the bed and props himself up on an elbow to look at Jor with a fond sadness. 

“One cannot exist on _this_ alone,” he strokes a hand over Jor’s bare chest as if he can’t resist the caress.

“Has anyone tried?” Jor grins, broad and inviting as he turns to mirror Dru’s pose.  “As a scientist, I feel it important for the betterment of our people to determine exactly how long a pair can survive on nothing but sex.”

The words spoken in humor appear to have been the wrong choice for the moment.  Zod’s hand falls away and he rises from the bed of Jor’s fantasy.  Fully dressed in his skinsuit, Zod stands for a moment at the foot of the bed; studying him before turning away.

“That’s the problem, right there, Jor-El.  Can’t you see?  ‘As a scientist.’  Take your mind from whom you see yourself doing for the rest of your life and focus on _what_ you will be doing.  Try, _just try,_ to imagine your life without science.  Your hands idle with no access to materials to invent with.  You mind atrophying with no debate or crisis to occupy it.  Imagine what you would be if the Council would not allow you to be what you were created for.”

Jor-El imagines away his nudity and rises to stand in his own skinsuit behind Zod.  The bed and chamber fade away to nothing as that is all that his mind can call forth as he tries to picture a life without scientific study and robotic creation.

“Exactly,” Dru sighs as he sees the vacant space surrounding them.  “Just as I imagine when I try to imagine my life without the military; without my weapons, my soldiers to train and my people to defend.  I’ve tried, El.  I’ve wanted and dreamed, but it all comes back to this,” his hand sweeps through the shadows.  “Yes, Jor-El, because of you, I _want_ to choose my own future, but it’s too late for me to; for _us_ to.  Our destinies were _bred_ into us; it’s in our minds, hearts and blood.  The Council put it there and, if we go against them, they will bar us from it.  I love you as I have never thought that I could feel, but I cannot imagine _this_ for the rest of our days.”

Their surroundings begin to change from one dismal landscape to another; all stark, barren and desolate with only one thing in common.  Dru and Jor; standing alone together against the harsh environments, growing older and older with each scene change until they are nothing but withering bodies together beneath the fiery glare of Rao in one of the distant deserts of Krypton.

In that moment, all he can really take in is that Zod has just admitted his love for Jor, but the other point being made soon sinks in.  They are sons of houses with long Kryptonian histories and deep commitments to their people.  They have a love for their land and the whole of their world.  The love that they have for one another may feel greater than the love for their home, but if it was a choice of one or the other…

“You want me to wed her?”

“No.  I _want_ to be back at the mines with you gathering your samples and I out with my weapons, hunting to feed us once night comes so that we can fall to bed together with bellies sated as we curl together to sate the other wants and needs of our flesh,” he moves suddenly to yank Jor’s mouth to his own, crushing their lips together in a kiss more savage than any they had shared in reality.  “I want you _mine_ and mine alone, but I can’t.  _We_ cannot forsake all else just for _us_.  If you choose me, you will have me for the rest of our lives; but you will _only have **me** for the **rest** of our lives._   The Council will deny us _everything_ else that we want; that we have worked for; that we are **_meant_** for.”

His hands drop away in the fantasy and then in reality, jarring Jor back from his subconscious.

“So,” Dru slips his gloves back on as he continues his rare speech, “I can make the choice for the both of us,” he picks the blue robes up from the bed and moves quickly to pull them over Jor’s head before he has any clue what the other man intends.  “I will stand by your side as you are bound to this female.  You will go on to do great things for our people and constantly wow the Council with your brilliance as you have always done me.  I will fight and protect our people; conquering those that would be our enemies and striking fear into even the Council’s hearts as I rise to General of all our defenses.  Through it all, you will still have me as we remain friends and allies in all things.”

“If I commit to her, we can never again-” Jor looks away as Dru pulls the crest over his head in the process of dressing him.

“I’ve always known that that was a luxury that I could not enjoy forever,” his tone and hands are brisk as he fastens the breastplate in place and moves to belt the waist of the robes.  “Know, El,” his voice drops to a whisper as his fingers linger over the latch of the belt, “that I will always consider it my greatest honor to have ever had your touch upon me.”

Jor has always been the talkative one of them, but he has no words coming to mind to respond to all that Dru has said.  Even if he could think of some _thing_ to say, he doubts he could find any _way_ to speak it past the ball that seems to have lodged in both his gut and throat.  His chest hurts; feeling heavy and constricted under the golden weight of the family glyph and breathing feels unnatural.  He can’t really remember how to do it or why he even needs to bother.

Panic is not something Kryptonians generally feel, but he recognizes it as what is overwhelming him at that moment.

Dru’s hands slap down on his cheeks, pulling Jor’s head around until their mouths meet again in an all too brief kiss.

“Zod, I l-”

“Can you imagine your life without science or mine of any worth without our armies?” Zod ruthlessly cuts him off.  “Then never speak those words aloud,” he hisses when Jor shakes his head in answer to the question. 

“I’ll still have you in my life?” Jor asks, resigning himself once again to this fate.

“I thought we’d already settled that,” he moves to collect the cape and drapes it down Jor’s back as he fastens the fabric in place.  “ _Always_.”

But always is a time that gets lost within the system.

Lara Lor-Van is young and beautiful when she is present as Jor-El’s mate.  He weds her without allowing his gaze to drift to the austere man standing as his primary witness to the union.

He and Zod part ways after the celebrations.

For a few years, they do manage to maintain a true friendship; sharing time and conversations together as they had in their youth before lust awoke between them.

Then the rebellions start on the other side of their planet and Zod is gone for a full cycle during which Jor-El has no news of his friend.  In that time, he worries and focuses on his works.  With Lara a staunch and supportive ally, Jor-El earns position as the Council’s primary scientist.  His inventions are prized and his opinions are actively sought by the citizenry.  What had begun as an obligation with Lara quickly became an affection and, in Dru’s absence, flourished to the love a man should have for his mate.

The Dru-Zod that returns from the civil wars is hailed the General that he always aspired to be and Jor-El uses his favor with the Council to insure that he is there to watch the ceremony through which Zod is officially given his rank. 

Though his friend’s posture is strong and his expression proud for the benefit of those gathered, Jor-El can see beyond the exterior to the truth beneath.  Dru has seen horrors that have stripped the life from his gaze. 

At Jor-El’s insistence, Dru joins them for dinner after the ceremonies, coming to the citadel that they call home immediately after leaving the Council chambers.  His new medals shimmer in the light as they drink wine and try to catch up on the past years, but the shining metal is the only thing about him that seems _alive_.  When the wine sinks in, he begins to speak in heavy tones of some of the dark things that he had seen.  Lara is quick to excuse herself as she senses the turn in conversation.

“There is a spare chamber available for you, Dru-Zod, should you not wish to return to your own house at this hour,” she offers their guest, before bending to give Jor-El her usual goodnight kiss.  “And I shall insure that your side of the bed is warmed and waiting for when you’ve had your fill.”

He smiles at her and returns her gentle kiss without hesitation; watching her slender figure walk away until it disappears from sight down the corridors. 

“You’re happy.”

He blinks at the words and turns back to Zod sitting on a chair across from him.  The words have no malice or bite; they lack any trace of emotion.  He’s merely stating a fact as he sees it.

“I am,” Jor says after a moment.  “Lara is an exceptional female.  Bonding has proven far more beneficial than I would have thought in my youth.”

Dru makes a non-committal sound to that as he stares into the red depths of his wineglass.

“You’ve never accepted a lifemate,” Jor says, leaning forward in curiosity.  “Perhaps it is time to accept tradition yourself and see who the Council might select for you.  I’m sure they’d be happy-”

“They’re happy so long as I bloody myself in their battles,” Dru interrupts.  “They no longer care if the house of Zod has a future so long as I shoot and stab where they point me.”

He stares into his glass again for several moments before leaning forward to set the drink aside.

“I have seen enough Kryptonian blood shed in these past years to flood all the canals of Kandor.  Good people died on both sides, but the rebels…they were like we had been.  Young and idealistic, but with the conviction to go against their genetics to fight the Council.  They’d gone against all of our laws; many even living openly with self-chosen lifemates of their same gender.  I slaughtered all of them that had been living for years as we had once wanted to.  I just…slaughtered them all.”

Jor-El can think of no words to say or solace to offer and they fall into an uncomfortable silence that spreads tautly between them until sleep beckons them both to bed to end the long day.  Dru declines Lara’s offer and takes a hover car back to his own residence.  Jor finds himself relieved to part ways with the darkness that his friend now seems to carry about him.

Their friendship wanes after that.

Conversations quickly turn to arguments over Krypton’s future, the Council’s leadership and notions of eugenics that grow increasingly worrisome on Dru’s part. 

Their meetings become few and far between.

Still, when Jor-El’s studies into recent trembles beneath the planet’s surface bring horrific news to his attention, Dru-Zod is the first person that he seeks out for counsel on how to advise the Council on a course of action to save Krypton.  It is during that meeting that Jor sees for the first time ever, the _menace_ with which Dru functions as General.  His friend makes wild suggestions up to and including to overthrow the current government. 

Jor disregards the suggestions and tells no one of the conversation.  He begins a campaign to raise awareness with the Council, but it is to no avail.  All that comes of his efforts is the Council’s lobotomizing his assistant, Non, when the man refuses to be silenced on the ‘theory’ that their planet is doomed.

After that, Jor-El begins a different course, plotting a new way for their future with Lara ready and willing to do as he asked.  Together they create a fetus that is theirs alone; with no genetic coding or interference by the Breeding guild.  Lara bears him a child in the same way that their great ancestors had done and as she prepares for the birth; he returns to the work of his ancestors who ventured to other worlds. 

They may have no future with Krypton falling, but Jor-El would see a future generation of their people given a chance beyond their ruin; a chance with no predetermination or certainty.  It may well be doomed to failure, but it would be a failure that Jor and Lara chose of their own free will.

Kal-El is born into a world of great unrest.  The planet is rumbling beneath them and the people have begun to grumble around them.  Jor is tempted to take his son with him to his final entreaty before the Council, but he cannot risk what the cowardly old guard might do to the abnormality of a naturally born child. 

He thanks the Gods that kept Kal safe in Lara’s arms as Jor addresses a willfully deaf Council.  They listen, though, when plasma blasts and sounds of explosion begin to filter into the chamber from the hallways outside.  The doors to the room are blown open and in stalks Dru-Zod; General to the teeth in his armor, stance and the handcrafted plasma rifle that he wields against Ro-Zar.

 _I should have seen this coming,_ Jor think to himself as he watches the coup in process.  _I knew him better than most._

In the end, that is the problem. 

The Dru-Zod that Jor-El _knew_ is long gone and replaced by a General Zod that he hardly knows.  He tries to spare the man that he had once loved and pays for it with his own life, but he sees Kal-El safely ejected from their dying planet.

Twenty years, two full cycles, prior to all of this; Zod and he had made a choice.

They obeyed their heads, thinking that by living apart they could have something of all that they’d ever wanted rather than following their hearts to have only one another. 

And they had still lost everything that had meant anything to them in their youth.

Perhaps it had simply been their fate all along.

~*~ _End_ ~*~

**Author's Note:**

> Several notes here:
> 
> 1) References to the Kryptonian houses are drawn from [NotMyBestIdea's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/NotMyBestIdea) [Houses of Krypton](http://notmybestidea.tumblr.com/post/53445705165/houses-of-krypton-and-what-they-stood-for-according-to#note-container) post on tumblr. We kind of made up our own definitions for the houses of Zod and El.
> 
> 2) I've no idea where all the "cycle" headcanon came from, but it breaks down like this:  
> Adaptation Cycle - On average, the first 5 years of Kryptonian life as the newly born adapt to Krypton's hard environs and the basics of Kryptonian society.  
> Enlightenment Cycle - 5-10, average of 7, years for Kryptonians to fully learn the history, rules and guiding principals of Krypton while continuing to grow physically in readiness for the...  
> Strength Cycle - 4-10, average of 8, years of arduous physical labor and training for all citizens to gain stamina, endurance, defense and offensive maneuvering that may or may not be of use after the...  
> Indoctrination Cycle - 4-10 years, average of 6, of specialized study to take all past learning and add additional information for the ingrained purpose of each citizen so that they may go forth and carry out their destinies for the betterment of Krypton.
> 
> So basically, from an American educational/development perspective: Adaptation=newborn-kindergarten; Enlightment=elementary thru middle school; Strength=overlap between middle & High schools; Indoctrination=College, 2-12, average of six, years depending on level of predetermined skill.
> 
> 3) Ages: Zod 15, Jor 13 at beginning of Strength cycle; 17/15 when they begin experimenting together, 20/18 when they part for Indoctrination; 25/23 at time of Implementation and 28/26 when Jor and Lara bond.
> 
> 4) In my headcanon, spurred again by [NotMyBestIdea,](http://archiveofourown.org/users/NotMyBestIdea) as there is no Ursa in the movie nor any allusion to a 'wife' for Zod, I have decided that Zod bucks tradition and forgoes a pairbond in this adaptation to devote himself to military progress. As the last in the line of Zod, he should have his genetics merged with another, but it is at this time that he begins to draw back from loyalty to the Council for he judges them incapable of pairing him with an acceptable lifemate worthy of mixing into his bloodline as Jor-El is the only one that Zod has ever wanted and there are no daughters in the house of El available for him to bond with. I thought of putting some of that into this and continuing the story up to and into the beginning of the movie, but those last lines typed themselves out and I just couldn't write any more. I have made note, though, and hope to revisit this idea in future fics.
> 
> 5) Imagine they last words as lovers to be "Always" friends and then remember Jor-El's words in the opening scene, "You've abandoned the principles that bound us together. You've taken up the sword against your own people. I will honor the man you once were, Zod, not this monster you've become." Remember the looks they exchanged in that moment? Yeah. My muses can be brutal 'cause that just shreds my vital organs and wrecks my feels. And don't forget Zod's preceding gesture and words to Jor-El's devastating statement. He put his hand on Jor's shoulder and said, "The last thing that I want is for us to be enemies."
> 
> In closing; I'll write more when I stop sobbing.


End file.
